On This Spot
by Nimbus 1944
Summary: Lovely place, Hogwarts -- but you wouldn't want to live there.
1. Metes and Bounds

****

On This Spot  
Lovely place, Hogwarts, but  
you wouldn't want to live there.

Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer. 

****

1. Metes and Bounds.

__

Everything appears to promise that it will last; but  
in this world, nothing is certain but death and taxes.  
- Benjamin Franklin, 1789

"Egad!" exclaimed Flitwick.

"Oh, dear," said McGonagall.

"Indeed," nodded Dumbledore.

The object of their confundity was a large sign, posted near Hogsmeade at the fringe of the charmed area, and facing toward the Muggle world. 

By wand-light, they read:

****

Coming Soon On This Spot  
GLEN ALETAN  
~~~  
Up to 210 family estates on individual lots  
in cluster communities for modern rural living  
~~  
sized 2.5 ac. (1 h.) or larger for gardens and play  
~~~  
A L L - N E W !  
Paved roads -- limited shop district -- common parklands  
GOLF COURSE AND CLUBHOUSE  
RIDING/BIKING/NATURE TRAILS  
Fishing, boating and swimming on a large freshwater lake  
OLD-GROWTH FOREST FOR HIKING AND CAMPING  
Convenient to worship, tourism and rail

McGonagall finally broke the silence. "What does this mean, Albus? I thought the Ministry had taken Muggle title to this land centuries ago, to keep anyone else away."

"They did, Minerva," he replied. "It would appear that a disastrous mistake has been made. But if the mistake is on our part, then we are now tenants on someone else's land."

* * *

Cornelius Fudge was in a controlled rage. "CATASTROPHIC! An absolute disaster! Would someone explain how this travesty could happen?"

A half-dozen ministry underlings cringed as though Fudge was breathing flames. One of them, just a nameless face to Fudge, gathered his courage and tried explaining. 

"Sir, there has never been any division in the Ministry specifically for property management . Ownership of charmed properties dates back centuries in most cases, and it's all arranged through Ministry connections with the PM's office. Usually a visible building occupies the spot -- the Leaky Cauldron, St. Mungo's, and like that -- and someone in the Muggle world is the theoretical owner and taxpayer.

"Hogwarts isn't a visible building. The Hogwarts property file has been handed around the Ministry as it was needed. The last one to need new building space at the school was the Office of House-Elf Relocation. The file's remained their responsibility for over 200 years. A very efficient new manager in that office saw no reason for Hogwarts' property taxes to be paid from his budget, and he posted the files to another division."

"And....?" said Fudge.

"In a word, it's lost, sir. He doesn't remember who he shipped the files to, and... well, no one seems to have them. And so, no one paid the Muggle taxes. As a result, Kent County of Scotland has sold the Hogwarts land to developers." 

"UNFATHOMABLE!" shouted Fudge. "We must look like utter DOLTS! That property has been safe in our hands since Time Immemorial! Now you tell me we've lost the lot of it to UNPAID TAXES???"

The silence answered his rhetorical question.

"ABYSMAL!"

* * *

"Heeheeheeheehahahhahaaaaa!," chortled Seamus, reading the sign. Rumours of the Ministry's blunder had circulated through the school already, and the sign was becoming quite the weekend tourist attraction for students.

"Oh, no!" moaned Hermione. "What's going to happen when Muggles start wandering in here?"

"Fudge and his mental midgets," said Ron, shaking his head.

"What were they thinking???" said Neville, staring at the awful words.

"The scheme of things always sounded so secure," noted Harry. "If the muggles came near the enchanted area, they wouldn't be able to see the town or the school, and they'd go away. Right?" 

"Right," agreed Hermione. "_Aletan_ was an old word meaning 'forsaken'; they've always called it that. They say the lake appears to be a stinking swamp, and Hogwarts is just a dangerous old ruin on a craggy pile of rocks full of snakes. No one would be stupid enough to try walking in, and if they did, there would be all sorts of horrible stuff to scare them away.....or so they say."

"Sure," nodded Ron. "Fine. Great fun. Now they'll hire some poor punks to drain the swamp, but the squid will eat them. Aragog's kids will eat the ones blazing the hiking trail. And what about the buildings? Maybe they can't see Hogsmeade, but it'really there! What happens when the first bulldozer runs into Honeydukes at full tilt?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Exactly. Still, what worries me right off are aerial surveys. I'm sure this place was so rural that no one has bothered to do GPS mapping, scanning it with ground-imaging radar, and all that."

"I love it when witches talk dirty," joked Seamus.

"Hermione," begged Ron, "could you translate that into non-Muggle English?"

"Ron, your 'bulldozer' might be a camera of some sort. Muggles wouldn't have to set foot in here to map it out. A thousand-year-old charm will fool the eye, maybe even a camera -- but will it fool radar on a plane, or a satellite 200 miles up? So, smile, Ron.... they might be taking our picture right now!"

* * *

"Odd picture, eh?" said David Mealy.

"Very much so," said Kiki Rankin, his boss, as she examined the satellite image.

"Ruins, do you think? There are lots of old castles in the Highlands."

"Strange details for a ruined castle. Almost none of the walls are down, and there are obvious courtyards, with not so much as a tree growing in them. Curious lines... those must be bridges, or flying buttresses.... perfect, not a break in them. The false-colour shots should show veggie climbing all over this place, but not a bit of it."

"And not a swamp in sight."

"Nope! It's a meticulously-kept medieval castle in pristine condition. The Queen should have a groundskeeper like this. And no 5-mile swamp in need of dredging and damming, but a glorious mountain lake." 

"So, what do you make of it all?"

"Obvious, isn't it? The GPS data must have been off. This can't be the property we saw from the air. David, ring John up, and tell him to get new shots... and this time, aim at the right valley."


	2. Chains and Links

****

2. Chains and Links.

By now, at Dumbledore's suggestion, Fudge had dispatched Level Three personnel to Hogwarts, with the formidable task of reinforcing the charms as necessary. Obliviator Headquarters was stationing observers around the clock, ready to perform a short-term muddle on the memory of any pilot or engineer who approached. The Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee had taken over an unused classroom as their battlefield command tent.

The Committee did some things seemingly un-Ministry. For one, they put Dumbledore in charge of the matter. For another, they announced they were open to any ideas. Good plan, that. When you have no idea what to say or do, listen intently; it'll fool anyone. And, put someone else in charge in case it fails.

A Seventh-Year student with electronics experience offered a suggestion, if the proper charms could be found: generate a "white noise" blanket over the area at ultraviolet, infrared and microwave frequencies. The intent would be to block any penetration by radar or imagery. That took a bit of explaining, but once the great wizard minds understood the concept of spectrum and bandwidth, they found a way to simply extend the visual charm. Serendipitously, it also seemed to fog photographic film -- which explains why no photo record of the effort exists in the magic world today. 

* * *

On Union Street in Aberdeen, at Rankin & Raven Engineers Ltd., Plotting and Survey Services Since 1897, By Appointment to Her Majesty, etc., etc., there was hell to pay.

Kiki had used all her feminine wiles, Midlothian charm and engineer's logic, but the results still weren't coming. It was all she could do to control herself. Mobile phones were very cheap, and in past years she had broken two against the wall with less cause for frustration. Now she was ready to make it three, and it wasn't the phone's fault.

"Why, John? You lot have been doing business with my family forever. Here's a picture on my wall of your grandfather, leaning out of a Spad to photograph farmland in Aberfeldy for _my_ grandfather. With all your gadgets, you could image a gnat's tonsils on a particular leaf of the third tree to the left in Fiji, and be home for lunch. So, why is it, in Scotland, UK, in the one spot on earth I need, you can't produce full-blown, across-the-board imaging and mapping?"

The voice on the phone was calm and adamant. "I checked them all, Kiki. Go to the French, if you like. Buy their satellite shot. Or the Russians, or anyone. That spot simply comes up blank now. It's an anomaly; I can't explain it. Maybe MI5 has an installation there. Maybe it's interference in space when the satellite passes that particular coordinate. Sorry, Kiki; no castles in the air, but no swamp either. Just the Highlands in all their glory, with a blank spot."

The wireless hit the wall and bounced off two desks and a drafting table before it stopped working. Kiki stood with her arms folded, staring into space, steaming.

"David, bring the Land Rover around front, and tell Randall we'll need him to help you load. Get your Highland route charts. Find an available survey crew. Pull them off another job, if needs be, and have them meet us at Inverness at 10 tomorrow. If Kent has sold the client a bill of goods, we owe it to them to tell them." 

She hadn't felt this driven in ages. _Let's sniff out this truffle_, she told herself.

* * *

In late morning the following day, an owl delivered a note to Dumbledore. He relayed its contents to those sitting in his meeting.

"Well, well. Here we go, first word. _'At 10:15 this morning, three white Land Rovers of the surveying firm were seen heading west on the A9, and turned toward Kent.'_ I dare say our cloud worked, and now they're coming to see for themselves. A cloaked broom is following them, so we should be getting more reports as they get closer. Are all the student teams and owls prepared?"

"We're okay, Professor," answered Hermione.

"And the Muggle Committee?"

"Och-aye, sir!" assured Jock Noonan, muggle husband of a Hogsmeade clerk.

"And the Creature Features?"

"Yeh, Professor, all ready for 'em," said Hagrid.

"And the Weather Wizards?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Snape.

"And Elfin Magic?"

"House-elves are ready to be of service, sir," answered Dobby.

"Fine. Now, if any of you discover they are carrying weapons, do not approach them. Alert the Weather Wizards right off, and when they get close enough to charm the instruments, they will put a spell on the weapons as well. Be discreet, and remember we're not trying to injure them, merely convince them of their own foolishness in being here. This may take several days, but it will be worth it. Hmm, it might be a bit amusing! Any questions?" 

No concerns were raised, and the neighbourhood prepared to repel boarders.


	3. Spirit Levels

****

3. Spirit Levels. 

"Another road with no sign. What does the map say?" asked Kiki.

"Go left," said David. "This should be the C961, Althers to Bumpus. This will be the last of it; about 10 miles to go. The property is a mile beyond Bumpus on the north side of the road, and the developer has a large advertisement on it."

"David, does any of this make sense to you? How are they going to sell hundreds of lots, on an unpaved C-road in the middle of nowhere? And when and if all those buyers are here, where are they going to work, for heaven's sake?"

"Not mine to reason why. If the gits wanted to pay me to stake out lots on Arctic pack ice, I'd just ask how many and how big."

* * *

The convoy drove past the sign and never saw it....not surprising, since the sign had been momentarily added to the charmed area, and so was quite invisible. That camouflage was removed once the Land Rovers were out of sight.

Snape and fellow teachers now spoiled the sunny day by introducing some "virtual" gloomy weather along the path toward Hogsmeade. A charm that usually regulated the Great Hall's ceiling brightness was used to lower the light level near the border of the property. Madam Sprout's charm for daily misting in the greenhouses was used to create a thick fog in the same area. 

Meanwhile, a mile down the road, Kiki decided to ask directions of a hunter walking in the road; women always ask directions. Conveniently positioned to help her, the hunter was Jock Noonan. Jock told them he knew exactly where the lot was, and was headed there himself. He would gladly point it out for them! At their invitation, he hopped in the back seat of the lead vehicle.

"So, then," said Jock, "are you folk thinking of building a house in that God-forsaken place?"

"No," answered David, "we're just engineers for the promoters. We figure where to plow the roads, how to turn the swamp into a nice lake, where to put the houses and whatnot."

"Oh, bad luck, I'd say; the whole place is something of a disaster. We only go there in bright sunlight, and we stay far away from the swamp, _and_ the forest, _and_ the old ruins. All sorts of critters and strange noises. If a pet or farm animal wanders in, for sure it won't be seen again. No one ever goes in at night."

"Why do you go in there at all?"

"My friends and I hunt in the place. There's a hunt right now, in fact, so keep ducking."

"What do you hunt?"

"Snakes and ferrets. The snake meat's good, and very plentiful. As for the ferrets, we shoot them just to wipe 'em out. Rabid, the whole lot of 'em; they caught it from the owls. Well, here we are!"

Sure enough, there was the sign, big as day. Kiki and David looked at each other. 

"It's no wonder you missed it. Not just the fog off the swamp, either. That sign vanishes, it does. Last week it was gone all day Wednesday. Popped right back the next morning. Very odd."

Kiki rolled her eyes, and led the convoy down the dirt road. The fog thickened.

They did not drive very far, of course. The Land Rovers were designed for rough terrain, but not for charms. Electricity is just not a part of life in the charmed area, where even Colin Creevey's flashgun had to run on magic instead of batteries. The vehicles rolled to a halt, and refused to restart.

"Oh!" said Jock, exiting the back seat. "I should've told ya 'bout that rumour; never tested it meself. There's supposed to be some sort of curse in here. Anything electrical has troubles. Well, you're engineers; maybe you'll figure it out. They say it has to do somehow with a man who was nearly beheaded in a lightning storm . If you see a ghost with a hinged neck, that's him -- Nick the Nasty. Watch out for that one, I tell you. Run if you see him."

"A ghost??" responded David.

"Told you it was a horrid place. And Nick's not half-bad, compared to the giant."

"A giant...?"

"Yep. Nine feet tall, he is, brawny and ready for a fight. Carries a crossbow, too. We don't know what he shoots with that, and we shan't stick around to ask'em. " 

"Yes, thank you, sir," said Kiki. "Have a nice day." Jock waved, and strolled away into the fog.

She smirked. "Clearly, that one doesn't want to see anyone improving this property. _Don't go near the forest! Don't go near the swamp! Rabid owls and ferrets! _If he only hunts in bright sunlight, why is he out in a fog? _Giants, and ghosts, and snakes, oh my!! _Oh, what a crock!"

"Right. Crock," said David, unconvinced by her bravado. "Uh..... boss, how's your calculator?"

"Got it right here," she said. "All charged up and --" But, of course, to her dismay, it wasn't working.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Noonan? Did you inspire them?"

"Did me best, Professor Dumbledore. The lesson'll sink in, once things start hoppin'."

"And slithering."

"Heeheehee! No obvious weapons on them. Just lots of survey gear and paper."

"Good. I'll tip Professor Snape. You can notify the hunters to start it off. Hagrid, you may have at it with the creatures. I'll let Sir Nicholas and the students know we're starting." 

Hagrid hurried to his hut, and checked the critter pens. Yep, the school's owls had done their overnight task well; one pen was now chock full of live snakes, and the other loaded with mice and rats. He started packing them in sacks. There would be plenty of time later for the owls to feast on these delicacies, but first they must be put to use. 


	4. Closing the Courses

****

4. Closing the Courses.

They walked a distance down the tree-lined path, and sat down in a clearing to plan their day. Randall, who was David's crew chief, shook his head. "We're never going to shoot any sightings until the fog lifts. For now, I can plot the existing road. I'll take a walk for as far as it goes, and take GPS readings along the way."

"Hardly," said Kiki. "GPS isn't working either. But enjoy your stroll. Don't let the bedbugs bite you!"

Of course, if he went a mere quarter-mile, he would walk into Hogsmeade. We can't have that!

So, about two minutes after Randall left, all his co-workers heard his loud editorial commentary on the day's events.

"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH! AAAHHHH! AAAHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

He arrived back in a fraction of the outbound time. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"What happened?" asked David.

"I saw a _ghost_!"

* * *

There was much activity in progress in the magical world, just a hundred yards away.

An inner circle of wizards kept the fog from lifting. Past them, Sir Nick floated out of the cloud from his sterling performance, chuckling to himself. Ron high-fived Nick, or tried to, and checked off "ghost appearance" on the official schedule parchment. 

Jock and others spread out to play the hunters. A few random gunshots on all sides ought to keep the survey team on their toes!

Hagrid emptied his sacks of snakes along the ground, and a line of beaters urged them into the fog, toward the strangers, as though they were fleeing the hunters. Then, Hagrid picked up more sacks and accompanied Flitwick toward the unattended vehicles.

Harry, Hermione and McGonagall were tending several nervous school owls. The birds were used to odd requests, but playing rabid ferrets was beyond weird! McGonagall told them to show themselves to the strangers, without getting too close to them or the snakes, then return to her. They pecked their agreement. With a wave and a word, the owls were transfigured into foaming ferrets, and set off to do their job.

* * *

Randall was not dealing with it very well, and Kiki wasn't helping.

"The awful thing tipped its head to me. Tipped its HEAD!"

"Come on," said Kiki. "It had to be that hunter or one of his friends. They're having a good old time scaring us."

"IT -- WALKED -- THROUGH -- ME!"

Kiki couldn't think of any way that trick might have been faked, so she stopped trying to console the shaken man. She had no answer for the electrical difficulties, either, and that was going to significantly delay her little expedition. What to do?

"All right, enough for one day. Maybe this fog will burn off tomorrow. Let's get the tents and supplies, and make camp here. I assume we can cook and sleep without offending the gods. David, you might see if the generator kit has starter fluid, and try it in the carburetors."

While the men went to the vehicles, Kiki took a folding saw from her field survey bag and began trimming some small trees for firewood. The sporadic gunfire in the distance was the only noise she heard in the still fog.....

...... until the men opened the vehicle doors, and saw what was inside.

If anyone was keeping score, "GAAAAAHHH!" would have been the most common reaction to the infestation of mice and rats. The aforementioned "AAAAARRRGGGGHHHH!" would have been second, with that old Hogwarts favourite, "BLOODY HELL!" a close third. The equally terrified rodents took off in all directions.

Well, no. Not exactly all directions. Thanks to the fog, the rats had only _one_ direction they could see any distance. They all ran down the path toward Kiki.

The rats and mice arrived in the campsite at about the same moment as the snakes and the foaming ferrets.

On the screamometer for the day, Kiki was definitely the winner.

A hundred yards away, Hagrid chortled with pride in a job well done.

* * *

Flitwick had seen to it that the Land Rovers weren't going to start yet, even if they were pushed all the way to the main road. If the magicians had any say in the matter, the visitors were going to have a full evening of it.

Madam Rosemerta walked among the troops, distributing chits for the evening; the first round was on her! As a result, the Three Broomsticks was packed all night. The "ferrets," restored to proper owls, were feted with treats at the main counter for their special duty. Sir Nick sat in a chair of honour next to Hagrid and Dumbledore; McGonagall, Snape and others toasted their success at another table, and students enjoyed this rare midweek visit to Hogsmeade.

Some witches and wizards left for a while, taking turns maintaining the fog; students scattered around the fog's perimeter, making the occasional moan or scream. Angelina was looking forward to midnight, when she intended to circle through the campsite on a broom, wearing traditional garb, and doing her best imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West.

* * *

Down the path, the tents had been erected near the vehicles. None of them was going back to the clearing again. 

A roaring campfire was started, as much to keep pests away as to warm the terrified crew in the chill evening. Randall declared he was off duty, now and maybe forever, and began sipping whiskey "to sooth my nerves" -- not that it did. Kiki, strangely quiet, was drinking cup after cup of coffee, and was so wound up she would never be able to sleep that night; David sat up with her. The rest warmed a huge pot of beef stew over the fire, and finished dinner by losing themselves in bottles of Guinness stout, then tenting down for an uneasy sleep. 

Before Angelina took to her broom, Ron proposed some added excitement. As long as the visitors were all going to wake up, why not something extra in their tents, too? Dumbledore nodded approval.

So, at midnight, there was not only (a) a very real cackling witch on a broom, throwing a powder in the campfire that turned the flames green, but also (b) the discovery that _something non-human _was moving in the tents, and (c) the further discovery that the tent zippers wouldn't open. 

After the strangers were sufficiently roused by this, the hooded elves removed the charm from the zippers, and vanished from the tents as quietly as they had come.

The visitors spent the rest of the night sitting up in the ice-cold Land Rovers while the campfire died, leaving them isolated in darkness within the safety of their locked doors and steamed-up windows. 

Down the path at 1 AM, Madam Rosemerta finished counting the evening's take, and was so pleased that she announced she was buying another round. That wouldn't cost her anything; by that hour, her remaining clientele amounted to two owls, still chattering to each other and stuffing themselves on treats.

At the first foggy light of pre-dawn, one vehicle tested its engine, and it roared to life. Based on that success, so did the others. No discussion was necessary on the next move. The lead vehicle quickly headed toward the road, and the others followed. No one looked back.

Wizards relaxed, and the fog slowly lifted. It was a beautiful, sunny Autumn morning in the Highlands.

* * *

Within a few days, the abandoned tents were pitched at the Hogsmeade playpark for the children to enjoy. The sign found its way to the Ministry, where it was hung on a Third-Level office wall -- not so much a trophy as a grim reminder. 

Soon after, Dumbledore stood to start the evening feast as usual, but had a few words to say.

"I must congratulate you all -- staff, students, elves and owls -- who performed so well in our recent crisis. I am happy to tell you that the new owners begged the county to escape their purchase, based on a report from their engineers that the Hogwarts property is pest-ridden, hazardous, unbuildable, and too far off the beaten track. I'm sure we all concur with their findings.

"Conveniently, a muggle representative of the Ministry had already told the county that they would gladly pay back taxes to reclaim their property if the new owners changed their minds. The county has acceeded. All is back to normal -- or whatever passes for normal around here.

"Now let the feast begin!"


End file.
